Humanity
Lost In The Improv
Caught up in starry-eyed dreams and the blurred taste of hedonism, I, a woman who is not a true connoisseur of music, became more and more skeptical towards what went on behind the allure of glamour.
The CafecitoPublished a day ago in ConfessionsRelapse Once Doesn’t Mean You Start from Zero Again
I relapse many times on my bad habits. I was planning to stop all of my bad habits — smoking, scrolling, and even cornography. It’s still hard for me to stop, and I don’t find a way out. I feel like a failure, and I’m starting to hate myself for doing that.
Astride EvansPublished a day ago in ConfessionsHow to Make Something People Give a Shit About
You could make something right now. If you wanted to stop reading, grab a sheet of butcher’s paper and brainstorm ideas, you could probably come up with half a dozen ideas for apps, books or products.
Astride EvansPublished 2 days ago in ConfessionsWhat an evil person looks like
Reading through the news, I saw an article which talked about a young man who slaughtered his girlfriend, and instantly I had many questions on my mind. The most obvious question was to know why a person so young would do something so heinous, I wondered to myself why go to such a length and not simply walk away. Cutting the throat of a person requires a certain level of anger and premeditation, you can’t just do such an act out of randomness.
real JemaPublished 2 days ago in ConfessionsBeing a slut, simply because you want to
A b*tch will have many reasons to enter the profession. Mostly because of "circumstances", because of "poverty", because of "tradition"... But for her, she is a whore because she wants to be a whore. Just as simple as that.
Ken aquariumsPublished 3 days ago in ConfessionsBoy's Tears
If a boy hugs me, I have the whole world in his heart, but if that boy has the courage to cry in front of me, perhaps he sees me as the whole world...
HK DecorPublished 3 days ago in ConfessionsThe Power of Words
I understand the power of words...the power in the pen, in the turn of a phrase, a smile and relatively cordial attitude (that is how it is in my head, you understand) can be transformed into a saddening sorry mess of downturned lips and sunken cheeks. Then comes the waterworks. Oh, the Niagara tear falls from the victim of childhood curt cruelty. The weeping on a random Tuesday or Wednesday in January back in the 1980s when I was less grey, more a mop of the darkest untamed brown hair you'd swear was black. I did not have my patented belly hanging down either but had the appetite of a ferocious beast.
Paul StewartPublished 3 days ago in ConfessionsA Friend Named Hope
In the little, sluggish town of Everwood, settled between moving slopes and thick backwoods, carried on with a little youngster named Emily. Emily was known for her good nature and vast idealism, attributes that sparkled brilliantly even notwithstanding affliction. In spite of her happy disposition, life had not been simple for her. Her dad had died when she was only five years of age, and her mom battled to earn enough to pay the bills by working extended periods of time at the neighborhood cafe. However, Emily stayed a guide of light, continuously accepting that better days were ahead.
bakhtawarkhanPublished 4 days ago in ConfessionsTHE STORY OF HEART
Fascination can here and there be a tricky aide, driving us through a hallucination of appeal just to leave us abandoned in a brutal reality. It's a savage spot of destiny when the fantasy we pursue transforms into a horrible we can't get away. The acknowledgment that we've been hoodwinked by our own sentiments is difficult to accept, passing on us to get the bits of our wrecked deceptions. However, it's not unexpected through these agonizing encounters that we develop further and figure out how to see past the cloak of simple appearances.
bakhtawarkhanPublished 6 days ago in ConfessionsA Friend of Hope
Last week I was in my car on the way home from work when I got a call from a childhood friend. It had been a minute since the two of us last spoke so I was surprised to be getting a call from him. When I picked up the phone he gave me some devastating news, a friend of ours who we had known since the first grade passed away. What made it worse was he died by suicide. All I could think about and ask myself was how could this good kid who was always smiling and vibrant could’ve taken his own life? Of course that’s a question many of us ask ourselves when such a tragedy happens.
Joe PattersonPublished 6 days ago in ConfessionsMy sweet boy
pretty boy says , I’ve got those eyes . looking into the mirror has always been revolting . I recognise her , winter leaves frost bites on my neck as the flowers in my lungs decay .The butterflies are leaving now , they left a note , saying they don’t feel at home anymore , funny how you said that the day you left . They’ve sent the moths though. The moths take care of me now . I stand in front of the sink , the ripples of water control the inevitable fire that’s growing in the pit of my sanity . I break pieces of myself to debris so others don’t . pity glazes my skin and sits on it like she’s home .
toa dattaPublished 6 days ago in ConfessionsBlossoms of Sakura
Maria had always been the invisible girl at Sakura Academy. With her plain looks, introverted nature, and average grades, she was the girl nobody noticed. In stark contrast, Akeno was the queen bee of the school. Her beauty was legendary, her grades impeccable, and her charm unmatched. She was the girl every student wanted to befriend, and Maria couldn't help but despise her for it.
DreamscapePublished 7 days ago in Confessions